Taint Me a Fusion
by Roriette
Summary: He's a popular host, admired by men and loved by women, and he's living a stable and rich life. Stable loses its meaning when he picks up a rebel on the road, a rebel whose mouth is just as foul as his temper. Gamma/Gokudera
1. A Rebel Like You

**Rori's Corner:** Ohhaitharr, everyone. I think I have tortured my fellow luv – and seme, apparently, pffttt – in her jenius mind with all the possibilities of "crack pairings."

Luv you, Androgynous my luv :3

* * *

Taint Me a Fusion

**Chapter 1: **A Rebel Like You

"_And why are you staying here?"_

"_Isn't that obvious? I'm freakin' _homeless_."_

* * *

* * *

He was calm and collected, admired by the men and loved by the ladies as a gentleman, and he was also one of the most popular hosts in the famous downtown host club named _Volare_. With his tall stature, toned and lithe body, and looks of gold and personality equally on par, he was inherently attractive to his daily customers and peers in accordance. Since his salary was relative to the customers he served per day, he was ultimately paid in large sums of money. His life was stable, prestigious, and most of all, feeling the absence of trouble. It didn't matter that he was living the same, colorless lifestyle that he had been given since the tender age of sixteen.

Gamma paused when the sounds of rash voices and raspy retorts came into existence as he was nearing an alleyway. He sighed, running a hand through his gelled blond hair and quirking an eyebrow at the scene of cowards blatantly demanding money from a lone figure sprawled over the unyielding cement.

"Yo, I know you have them bucks. Cough 'em out," one of the bullies, a bulky and pierced member of a bike gang, snarled. The other chortled with laughter, an indecent snort accompanying the sound. When the victim didn't respond, the other man raised his foot over him, preparing to stamp down on the latter's stomach. Ugly snickers erupted, but they trailed off when a hand shot up from the ground and wrapped around the biker's ankle, halting it in mid-attack.

"Hrm? You got some fight still in ya', punk?" sniggered the bully, his piggy eyes hardening as he tried to force his foot down. The clutch didn't relent; it was tightening despite its weak hold.

"Y-you...bastards, don't...think I'm..." there was a cough in the rasping voice, and chancing the opportune of his victim's weakness, the biker sneered and brought his foot down, immediately eliciting a strained cry along with groans in pain from the rebel. The target's legs from where Gamma could see were twitching, and his labored pants drinking in gulps of air were sporadic. The scene was pitiful.

Gamma's footsteps thudding against the leaf-strewn pavement stopped the bullies' next approach on the beat-up victim. The popular host drawled in a cool voice as he held up his hands to calm the suspicious bikers, "Oi, oi, ganging up on a one defenseless guy is really cowardly, you know." He let a wry smirk to grace his lips as the two bared their teeth in an attempt to intimidate him, each trying his best to flex his bulging muscles in a hulking manner.

"You wanna' take the place of 'at punk over 'er?" sneered the bully with a blue mohawk. A flash of light glinted off of his gold tooth.

Gamma chuckled humorlessly, dropping his hands that were held up in defense. The two offending bikers inched towards him, faces set in growls and sneers. Making an irritated sound with his tongue, Gamma retrieved something from his expensive leather jacket. The item was a short black rod, but when he pressed the switch located on the side, it lengthened into a pool stick encased in wood but made of steel. He leaned on the weapon with his arm, eying the bikers condescendingly before saying in a warning tone, "This is your chance to retreat, and unless you're an even more pathetic bunch than I thought you were, you will take this opportunity."

"Ahn? Retreat? What kinda' flashy words you using, you rich punk," snorted the other bully.

"You think that pool stick gon' hit us?" the one with the blue mohawk said, spittle flying out of his mouth when he roared with laughter.

Gamma frowned, patting back a stray strand of hair on his forehead. They were debating with each other on who to go first on the "rich-ass punk who be going all up in their business," and he let them bicker. It didn't matter who went ahead; the result would be the same. Both would end up utterly beyond recognition by his hands. Gamma glanced around and saw that the vulnerable victim was stubbornly trying to sit up, though the moonlight could only illuminate half of his body. He returned his attention to the two bikers when they suddenly stopped whispering to each other under hushed breaths; they were now leering at him with their beady eyes. Gamma raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Was that enough time for you to prepare?"

One of the bullies snorted, spitting on the ground and wiping a dirty hand over his lips. "Yah, we was preparin' ta' dispose your body, punk!" The other nodded in agreement, and catching his partner's eye, he abruptly flicked out a knife from his pocket and charged towards the aristocratic host with a battle war cry. Gamma side-stepped him easily, flipping the pool stick to his other hand and arcing the rod with swishing noises to knock his opponent out cold by striking him in the back of the neck. A gurgle could be heard from the biker as he fell to the ground, face first. Gamma nonchalantly pressed his heel into the unconscious man, using his back as a source of support.

"Next?"

The second the other had emerged in his range, Gamma brandished his weapon and drove it into the biker's guts, knocking the air out of him and sending him skidding across the cement to make contact with the sturdy wall opposite. A faint groan in defeat met his ears, and Gamma smirked knowingly. He prodded the unconscious body below him and deemed that the weakling would be out for six hours. These cowards could only be matched up to this caliber: weak, brainless, and pathetic men.

Now, there was one more thing that needed to be taken care of. Or, more precisely, one more person involved in this meaningless fight. Even as he was languidly striding over to the victim, he could already sense the other trying to sit upright while coughing into a hand. Gamma crossed the distance and peered around the trashcan which blocked the upper half of the beat-up victim. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of silver hair and emerald orbs which were straining to open. The lad had a boyish face; attractive and fresh, which was likely to work on girls in their teens and women of high standards, and he was attired in a stylish and rebellious outfit: long-sleeved black shirt with a skull depicted at the center, an equally dark jacket which was unzipped, an authentic silver necklace glinting under the pale moon, baggy black pants which were held up with a leather studded belt, and lastly but not least sneakers that didn't look worn-out.

Gamma sighed, kneading his forehead with two fingers. Of all people, he was to deal with a rebellious teen who was most likely a runaway from a rich family, judging by his haughty demeanor (he was glaring at him while trying to steady himself onto his feet, despite the injuries dealt to his body) and the stylish clothes he wore. Gamma retracted his pool stick and stuffed it into his pocket, all the while feeling lethal vibes emitting from a certain rebel.

"...You..." was the first word uttered by the target, and it was a hoarse croak. The silver-haired teenager cleared his throat, wincing at the dryness and pain simultaneously received, before continuing in a less-than-friendly tone, "Why did you save me?"

The brat should really be more grateful. "Why do you think? I'm not heartless, kid," replied Gamma, looming over the other. There was a strained sound coming from the teen, and a split second later he realized that the rascal had scoffed at him.

"Quit pretending," he snarled, his jaded eyes flaring up unexpectedly; fierce like the turbulent storm. Gamma was taken aback, though he didn't want to admit that a kid had surprised him. The teen was now leaning on the wall, a scowl adorning his good-looking face as he eyed the man before him with a narrowed gaze. "I saw how you fought," he started, and then turned his head when a cough overtook him. He breathed unsteadily for a few seconds, his jade eyes fluttering shut as if trying to stay intact with the world. His hand slipped off the wall, causing his body to lurch forward. Gamma caught the teen just before he made contact with the ground, impulse quickening his instinct.

"What an un-cute brat," mused Gamma as he pulled the silver-haired rebel into a standing position.

He was mumbling something. "I don't...need...help from you...bastard."

Ungrateful, highly unlikeable, and also grating on the ears. And he was still helping out this brat. Gamma reckoned that there was something wrong with him today. Perhaps he drank wine instead of beer today – though that couldn't be helped, since Lady Orlando had specifically requested wine. The teen was struggling in his grasp now, hands shoving against his chest and therefore causing himself to be pushed back against the wall and Gamma to stumble back a step. The blond host was now officially peeved at the ungrateful attitude of the rebel. Dusting his jacket, he said dismissively, "If this is how you're going to act, brat, then I won't help you."

The teen scowled, half-lidded eyes peering blearily through as he breathed, "I don't need your freakin' help."

Gamma stood still for a minute or so, just staring at the wobbly rascal. And then he turned his back on the latter, coldly sauntering away without a backward glance with his face impassively looking forward. The brat was a really agitating specimen, more stubborn and irritating than anyone he had ever met before. Gamma paused at the sound of a body giving way, collapsing with a dull thud on the cold pavement. He swiveled on his feet, quirking an eyebrow at the sight of the unyielding boy who was now helplessly lying on his front, hands fisting and breaths wavering. Gamma paused, considering the pros and cons. The lad was more troublesome than he would've preferred, and he was also a rebellious sort of kid. But then again leaving the brat here in the dust left him with an unsettling feeling, and wearing a half-amused frown, he supposed it was guilt. Guilt, and...there was something else.

He knelt down on one knee, tilting the sharp jaw up to face him, and immediately the pink lips tasting blood scowled. An emerald eye – the other squinting weakly – glared with all the power he had left over. Gamma's lip curled as he took in the defiance.

He was right. There was something else, and it undoubtedly tipped his monotonous life upside down. It was the first time in a while that he felt such a spurge of interest.

"Yo, kid," Gamma said, flipping the silver-haired teen on his back.

"Don't you - " there was a colorful word involved - "...call me a kid," he snarled, his face now facing him in the bare and illuminating a dim sheen of ethereal blue. There was cold sweat coating his forehead, a bruise forming on the side of his mouth along with droplets of blood trailing down his jaw, and his clothes seemed to be brand new but utterly dirtied and disheveled. Something was lying on the cement besides the lightly breathing rebel, and Gamma cautiously extended a hand to the area right besides the latter's abdomen. He picked up the rectangle I.D card fitted inside a plastic wrap. There was a picture of the silver-haired teen, who surprisingly wasn't scowling in the photo, and besides it were the words: _Gokudera Hayato_, _Age: 16_, _Sex: Male_, _D.O.B..._

"Hmm, driver's permit, eh?" murmured Gamma, and with a wry smirk, stuffed it into his chest pocket. The lad apparently hadn't heard, or else he'd have stirred; he seemed to have fallen asleep on the concrete. The blond host grabbed his collar and tugged, pulling the slumbering teen up and away from his dreamless sleep. He blearily cracked open an eye, saw that he was mere centimeters away from the older man, and instantly reverted to his scowling, resisting self. Gamma held a steady grasp on the struggling hands, raising an eyebrow at the angry spluttering of the latter.

"Oi, kid," he interrupted Gokudera's impatient rantings, hands still clamping on the other's smaller ones. The teen glared, mouth slanted in agitation. "Hold still, will you? You trying to give me a migraine or something?"

"Let go of me," the silver-haired rebel snarled, eyes flashing as he tried to force his hands away from the iron clasp in vain.

Gamma sighed, and in the blink of an eye, dropped his hold on the rebellious hands, and before Gokudera had the grace to apprehend the situation, an arm had already wound itself around his waist. He yelped in surprise when he lurched backwards, and just as he closed his eyes, suspended in anxiety for the impact that never followed, he was caught and held by someone; a person who was seeping warmth to his bruised and cold self. His jade eyes fluttered open in shock, mouth wordlessly agape as he stared into steel-blue eyes, ones that were vaguely entertained and devoid of earlier enhanced annoyance.

"Calmed down, princess?" the man drawled, the tone halfway between teasing and mocking.

Gokudera gawked, for once at a loss of words as he took in the offending, transgendered nickname and the way he was currently being held _bridal-style_. He felt the arm supporting the back of his thighs and the other one around his waist, and immediately his face heated up – though he was unconscious of the details, as in rather he was blushing in embarrassment, pride, or...something totally different. All he knew was that he was hitting the stress meter when he finally realized what the other had called him, and also that they were exiting the alleyway and quickly emerging into the streets. Wriggling, seething, and ultimately punching the solid and unyielding chest of his captor, Gokudera protested in a hoarse voice that was the result of a dry throat, "Let go of me, you insane bastard! I said - "

"Shut up," Gamma cut in gruffly, his eyes looking disapprovingly down at him. Gokudera wavered, staring uncomfortably but unrelentingly back, lips set in a scowl. The older man captured him in a steel exchange between blue and green, and somehow the latter had the feeling that he was reprimanding him. Before Gokudera could notice the slight curl at the corner of Gamma's lips in the heat of the unblinking stare contest, he suddenly became aware of their entrance into the milling sidewalk and the neon-lit stores.

And he was still being carried bridal-style. Gokudera's neck warmed up, and he could already sense the incoming heat threatening to color his cheeks.

Gamma didn't let him have time to spout another rebellious round of protests in the public, and so having signaled a cab on the sidewalk, he thrust the passenger car door open while still carrying the silver-haired teen. He chuckled at the begrudging mutters of "I'm going to kill you" as he carefully laid him into the backseat, gently as a prince would to his princess. Gamma climbed in after him, ignoring the pointed glare and the almost pouty lips as he directed the chauffeur, a woman in her mid-thirties who was looking on at the scene with surprise and total interest.

"Where are we going?" came a growl on his left.

Without turning his head to look at the peeved teen, Gamma answered in a suave voice while slumped into the leather seat, "Where do you expect? To my house, of course."

* * *

**Rori's Second Corner:** I'm interested in how many people are _interested_ in Gamma/Gokudera. There are barely any Gamma fics, and even less yaoi ones – it's just totally disheartening.

I have a plot set up. M-hm. I swear.

_To Androgynous:_ Did you expect this pairing? LOL

_To Everyone Else:_ I hope to see you sometime next...week/month/year?! Crossing my fingers :3


	2. Bear with Me

**Rori's Corner:** I iz excited~ Seems like not many people expect Gamma/Goku LOL Understandable.

And you know what?

Gamma x Gokudera is now officially named **_NightSmex_**.

Don't ask me why. LOL It came from _Self-Proclaimed Androgynous/Seme/Hero_. Pfft.

* * *

Taint Me a Fusion

**Chapter 2:** Bear with Me

"_And I thought you were crazy."_

"_Shut up."_

* * *

It was an impressive tower of an apartment they were heading to, and as the cab pulled to a stop in front of the pavement, Gamma expressed his gratitude to the chauffeur in his sultry voice. The woman, looking baffled by the overwhelming charisma, simply nodded in shock. The silver-haired teen sitting across from the man gave her a curt nod before climbing out the backseat, his face concealed by the soft strands of his hair. The car door clapped shut; the locks clicking together. The cab's two passengers were off.

"Which floor?" Gokudera asked, peering up at the colossal building with its protruding balconies overlooking the city and its various floor-to-ceiling windows revealing faint outlines of leather sofas and cushions. There wasn't any light peeping through the windows, and he wondered why that was. Shouldn't there be people living in the apartment? Gamma was a couple strides ahead of him; already nearing the revolving doors as he crossed the grey asphalt. Gokudera gritted his teeth, inwardly cursing the elder's longer legs, and hurried up. He followed the man to the revolving doors, stopping hesitantly when he felt steel-blue eyes surveying him. "W-what?"

Gamma looked amused, hand pressing against the transparent frame of the panel and body facing him sideways. "Coming, kid?"

Gokudera glowered, stomping resolutely over to the cramped spot behind the blond, an enclosed area where he was trapped between a broad body and the glass frame. He didn't realize the close proximity between his captor and himself until he was propelled forward when the revolving door began to move, conveniently pushing him into Gamma's back. The teen mumbled a soft "ow" when his face thumped against the cotton fabric, his feet stumbling as the door frame manipulated his movements. He still felt weak after the unwarranted encounter with the bikers, and coupled with the shame were the bruises veering up painfully all over his body and the dizziness he experienced occasionally. His sneaker bumped into the black dress shoes before him when the revolving doors came to a stop.

"Over here."

Gokudera looked around at the vast reception hall, the white walls, the wide arc of a reception desk where the obsidian table was deserted of pens or paper, the pearl floor that cleanly reflected the swaying, diamond chandeliers, and the beige statue of a god in the middle of vicinity. It seemed like an affluent apartment – but what did the man mean by his "house?" As long as he could tell, a house and an apartment are two different things altogether. And also...where were the people? The whole place looked relatively vacant; even the reception desk was deserted.

"You seem paranoid." Gokudera's eyes narrowed at the nonchalant blond who was leaning on the elevator doors.

"Tch, paranoid my ass," the teen muttered, stalking over to the taller man with his scowl in place. The steel doors slid shut upon his entrance, and then he felt the floor trembling slightly as the elevator climbed up. He looked at the blond curiously when the other held a cigarette in between his fingers and flicked the lighter with his hand. Gamma breathed, leaning his head on the metal barricade in the elevator and exposing his neck, smoke dragging from the cigarette and curling into an "o" shape. Gokudera averted his gaze, looking away guiltily when he mumbled in a barely audible voice, "Do you..have another?"

Gamma quirked an eyebrow, a finger tapping the cigarette butt and tipping the grey ash. "Another of what?"

Emerald eyes flashed defiantly. "That."

Glancing at the cigarette in his hand, the blond whistled, but when he spoke, it was in a chiding and chastising tone, "Brat, you're only sixteen. There's no way in hell I'm giving you cigarettes."

At this, Gokudera flared up and spluttered, "What do you mean?! I'm old enough to do whatever the hell I want!" The man merely scoffed, steel-blue eyes disapproving. The silver-haired lad snarled, hands clenching and nails digging into his flesh, "And how did you know I'm sixteen? I could be twenty-three for all you know."

Gamma smirked amusedly, reaching a hand into his chest pocket and, to the immense shock of the latter, retrieving the I.D card of a certain runaway. "Hmm," deliberated the blond as he looked playfully at the information. Ignoring the indignant protests of the silver-haired teen, he read from the card, "Name, Gokudera Hayato, age, sixteen - "

"Where'd you get that?" demanded Gokudera, and just as he was reaching up for his identification card, for the blond host was intentionally holding the paper above his reach, the elevator _'ding'_ed. Gamma grinned, easing past the latter and out of the elevator to the hallway.

"Playtime's over, kid."

"Give me back my permit, you bastard!"

"Sure," he said evenly, eyes glancing sideways at the quick pace of the teen behind him, whose angry scowl was evident despite the distance between them, "if you behave like a good kid."

"The fuc - "

"And no intolerable language, brat."

Gokudera growled under his breath, feet determinedly thumping on the carpeted floor as he followed his captor. This wasn't turning out exactly how he had wanted to when he escaped from his home – and to think he was being manipulated by this man. But then again he _was_ saved by the guy. It couldn't be all that bad...right? He glared at the broad back of the blond as the man unlocked the room, cigarette still in hand. He knew the other could fight well; he had seen snippets of the conflict when he was in the alleyway behind the dumpster. And yet, for some reason unknown even to himself, Gokudera had a notion that the blond had no intention to harm him. But where was the logic in that?

"Come on in, _Hayato_," Gamma said, lips curled at the corners and an arm welcoming the latter.

"I'll murder you," Gokudera hissed, but he had begrudgingly headed inside, head held high when he passed the older male. They were in an apartment room, but it was one of the most capacious apartment rooms he had ever seen. The living room consisted of a wide-screened plasma television, stereo speakers located on either side of the TV, a glass coffee table some feet away from the screen surrounded by a comfy couch, a navy loveseat with fluffy pillows resting on it, and a leather sofa, and on the far side of the room, there was a panel separating this junction from the balcony. Connected to the living room were the bedroom and the kitchen, and beside the door to the bedroom was the bathroom. The vicinity was luxuriously decorated and lit upon by the white chandeliers, illustrating an essence of the rich lifestyle in the very crevices of the room.

"Take a seat," ordered Gamma, who had gone to the kitchen and come back with a white first-aid kit, the cigarette he was smoking having been stubbed out in the disposal bin. Gokudera stared at the white box, ignoring the command for him to sit.

His emerald eyes clashed with cobalt ones. Before he could utter another disgruntled demur, he found himself being pushed down on the loveseat by the frowning man before him. Gokudera bristled, "What are you doing?"

Gamma was frowning, but at the same time, a wry smirk had flitted over his lips. "Cleaning up the injured cat's wounds."

"_What?_"

"Oi, brat, I don't want to hear another objection from you," Gamma said gruffly, his hand firmly placed on the latter's shoulder so that he remained fixedly sitting on the couch.

"Damn it, I already said that I don't - " Gokudera abruptly halted in mid-speech when a single finger tilted his head up, causing him to stare involuntarily into calm, oceanic eyes. He twitched, nervousness tingling along his spine and all over his body. The man wordlessly, though with an occasional flicker of amusement in the steel-blue orbs and the way he sometimes smirked when Gokudera winced in pain, began addressing his wounds, starting with the bruise on the side of his lip. "Ow, ow, ow, would you freakin' _stop_ probing that part, you sadist?" snapped Gokudera, an emerald eye clenched tightly shut at the throbbing on his forehead. He was well aware of how close his captor was to him, though he tried to force the uncomfortable thought out of his mind – and the deliberate harshness from the dabbing of ointment was awfully helpful in doing that.

A deep chuckle was heard, and the latter just knew that the man was enjoying this. Gamma said suavely as he applied the post-lotion on the bruise, "Oi, oi, you're lucky that I bother with your injuries." Gokudera scowled. The blond stepped back to fetch something else from the medicine kit and the silver-haired teen took this time to massage the stinging areas on his face. "Anywhere else, kid?" inquired Gamma.

"Yeah, but I can get to them, myself," Gokudera answered querulously.

The blond host gave him a sidelong glance before saying, "I'll be sleeping in early. Do whatever you want for the time-being. And change of clothes are already in the bathroom."

Emerald eyes widened, and Gokudera found himself gaping at the back of the man who was already in front of the door to the bedroom. "Seriously?" he breathed skeptically, disbelief clinging all around him. Gamma paused, hand resting on the doorknob. He turned to face the wide orbs of the teen, whose jaw was still hanging open, and smirked.

"Hoh? I forgot to mention that there are two beds in here," he remarked casually, a hand gesturing at the interior of the furnished room. He took in the slow reactions of the teen – from confusion to surprise, and from surprise to the immediate rouse of anger, and just as a silky pillow was flung towards him, he stepped in and slammed the door shut.

"Bastard," hissed Gokudera as he was forced to endure the laughter coming from the bedroom. He shuffled quietly over to the door, picking up the carelessly thrown pillow, and, defying all previously viable and _sane_ senses screaming at him from the insides of his brain, stood in front of the room, unmoving, while trying to identify any sound that could be traced through the wooden obstacle. It was silent. Perhaps he was really asleep. Gokudera tentatively made his way to the bathroom, his eyebrows furrowed at the recollection of what had just happened.

Above all thoughts he had while taking a steamy hot shower, he noted that the most nagging feeling of all was the fact that he _still_ didn't know the the other's name.

* * *

Gokudera had woken up at around the time the apartment's host was preparing himself in the bathroom. Gamma was wiping his face with a towel when the latter came stumbling in, silver head knocking into his elbow and earning himself a convenient headache while mumbling a string of curses. He raised both eyebrows at the latter, whose hand had automatically reached for a toothbrush (which was actually his), grabbed a cup to fill water with (which was also...his), and stared sleepily into the mirror, half-lidded eyes blearily absent and chin nodding drowsily.

"Oi," Gamma said.

Gokudera ignored him, eyes still unconsciously focused on the mirror. The blond frowned, but he also had on a half-devious, half-lazy smirk. After hanging the towel on the hanger, he patted down his hair for a last effect. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that the slim teen was languidly brushing his teeth, arm moving in a painfully slow-mo and horizontal motion. Gamma brushed past the other (who was looking incredibly lost in the downy white clouds and had still not noticed his presence) and, at the spur of the moment, or perhaps more of the intuition that he wouldn't have another chance to tease the kid and get away unscathed, he lackadaisically fondled the teen's surprisingly soft hair, messing it up intentionally before he went on his way out, a satisfied grin curling on his chiseled and handsome face.

He couldn't help letting slip a low rumble of amusement when he head a disgruntled grunt from the bathroom.

It wasn't until the door slammed shut that Gokudera finally woke up from his daydreaming stupor. The silver-haired teen looked around, taking in the silence of the vicinity and the fact that the man was no longer in the apartment. He looked at his disheveled silver hair, blinked at the dawning realization that he had missed the chance to spy – uh, have a better understanding of his current situation by _following_ the mysterious blond, and promptly swore.

"Damn it all," he hissed, gritting his teeth. While wiping his face with a wet paper towel, he snatched an elastic band, and after throwing the sloshed paper into the trash bin, he quickly wound his hair into a low ponytail. Gokudera paused just in front of the door, his eyes roving down to his borrowed clothes: black turtleneck, leather pants, and a plain brown belt. A pink color blossomed over his cheeks as he averted his eyes from himself.

Now wasn't the time to be worrying about clothes, he chided himself.

And then he rushed out of the apartment room.

* * *

**Rori's Corner:** Ushishishi~ plot unraveling already. First time ever that I started the plot so early on.

Ohyeshh, feed your addictions, everyone, ushishishi~


	3. Deck the Halls

**Rori's Corner:** Why, hello, everyone~

I welcometh thee to the thirdth installment of _Taint Me a Fusion_!

Do not _doubt_ my sincerity. Or you will be hung like the liar wolf.

...All right. Stop giving me that strange look.

Anyway~ onto a better mood now! It has been a bit, so get comfortable, people~

* * *

Taint Me a Fusion

**Chapter 3: **Deck the Halls

"_And maybe it's true."_

"_About as true as the statement: I'm a hermaphrodite."_

"_...That means it _is_ true."_

"_I'm going to kill you dead."_

* * *

Empty.

The hallways were furnished as grandly and as cleanly as he had remembered, but the troubling thing was that he had seen not _one_ single person roaming around. He hesitated as he stood in front of a room, the number plate reading 267. What if there were actually a family in there? Gokudera tried the doorknob, curiosity getting the better hold of him. It was unlocked. The teen took a deep breath, eyes darting around nervously before his hand turned the steel handle. He wasn't too surprised when he spotted the vacant vicinity of the well-kept room. It was a suitable five-star Italian apartment with beige draping over the floor-to-ceiling French windows which overlooked the whole city and its skyscrapers. There were comfortable couches just like the ones he'd witnessed in the apartment he was first in.

Odd. Were there really no people living in this grandiose apartment building besides that man? He supposed the question was really how rich the guy was, to be able to afford this high rental estate. Gokudera noticed a grandfather clock perched on a podium, the pendulum swinging steadily from left to right and right to left.

10:11 A.M.

He was wasting time here. With a last look at the empty room, Gokudera swiveled on the balls of his feet and sprinted to the elevator, wondering whether the man he was following was already at work. He punched in the first floor, and the switch flashed yellow, feet tapping impatiently for the doors to open as the elevator descended.

"Hurry it up, you freakin' slow as - " the annoyed silver-haired lad paused when the elevator _ding_ed. He hurriedly stepped out into the reception hall, feet thudding on the marble floor. Just as Gokudera reached the revolving doors, he stopped, taking in the vacancy of the apartment. Since there was no one here to survey the building, wouldn't it be easy to rob? What about the security? Why was he worrying about this? Gokudera scowled at his own stupidity. He knew the blond wasn't tactless – he must've set up security on his own, unless he was just asking to be robbed. Discarding all concerns and unnecessary thoughts, Gokudera left the building and turned back to glance up at the towering edifice ridden with balconies and reflecting glass windows.

He wondered if and whether he'd ever see this place again. It was possible that he could get caught up in unwarranted situations, such as getting lost, for instance. It hadn't even been two days since he had wound up in this city and encountered the atrocious street gang. But, for the time-being, he would just have to deal. Settling his inner qualms, Gokudera headed to the downtown, feet carrying him over the neatly kept gardens and front yards to the gradually less tidy neighborhoods. And then, he realized, he was in the infamous red light district of Italy. It was proclaimed the red light district because of the neighborhood's characteristic neon sanguine lighting displaying its incongruously dressed women. The downtown was controlled by the mafia and the drug dealers, and so undercover agents such as the narcs would be stationed in this area to apprehend such activities.

The downtown was busy with ongoing events: teens in groups of friends hanging out in the casinos, others at the cinema that was likely a cover for underground trading centers, adults who were seeking for gold and their future in the eccentric fortune-telling tents, of which Gokudera was naturally skeptical, and, lastly but not least, the legal clubs dedicated solely for the sake of adults' sexual desires. He could already see the heavily done make-up on the shameless exposure of the near-nude girls on the corners of the streets. Gokudera winced, eyes immediately searching for another object of interest and heat rising to his cheeks in humiliation.

He definitely wasn't here to witness these questionable affairs.

"Hey, pretty boy," a foxy purr greeted him. Gokudera swiveled around to chance a glimpse of a redhead with her hair clipped to the side with a less than discreet smirk. He looked at her questioningly, a scowl automatically adorning his lips when he noticed her black-laced attire along with fishnet stockings.

"Who the hell are you?" he grounded out with suspicion. It was standard to never trust a stranger. That advice could not be ignored in this dangerous area of the city. Gokudera noticed the girl eying his casual attire that was aberrant to the style that of the red light district, which was more vying to get undressed rather than keeping the clothes on.

The girl flicked her short red hair and said, "You look like you're lost."

Gokudera paled just slightly. Was he that noticeable?

"Also," the redhead continued, leaning in and gracing him with her overly perfumed scent, "it seems like you need help searching for a _someone_."

This girl was not telepathic. But she was hitting the marks full on. Gokudera glared at her with his arms crossed, suddenly feeling the turtleneck a bit too prickly on his restless body. He sneered in a skeptical tone, "And what makes you think that?"

With a cocky smirk, the female withdrew. "I can tell." Before he could butt in with another critical examination, she said in a clipped voice, "Are you going to stand here forever? If you want the info, you better follow me, _pretty boy_."

Gokudera bristled, "If you call me that one more time, I'll - "

Rolling her eyes, the girl interrupted, "Just shut your trap and follow me."

Thinking that the offer was too gilded for him to simply indulge in, and yet at the same time a chance that he could let slip forever, Gokudera obeyed, teeth gritting indignantly. He trailed after the redhead, heart racing madly when he saw that they were approaching a ticket booth in front of a neon-lit club entitled: "_I __Biscioni_," The Snakes. They were excused to the entrance, the glass double-doors glittering with red lighting. Gokudera looked uncertain, but at the girl's knowing grin, he glared and trudged inside. The ceiling was coated with aquamarine light-bulbs while the floor had streams of rainbow colored lines traversing the obsidian floor. There were hoards of people jamming to a crowd-appealing beat; arms waved in the air as the neon green wristbands glowed. The DJ had headphones on, head nodding to the music while his hands flew over the mixer for playback.

Gokudera avoided the jumping and grinding bodies, face draining in color as he followed the nonchalant redhead. He jumped when he felt a hand suddenly groping his rear, but when he turned around with murder in mind, he only saw the backs of people going with the beats. "The flying crap is that?" he hissed, already inching his way into the dancing and sweaty girls to find the harasser. However, a hand had dragged him back and pushed him into a seat. Gokudera stared at the girl who was casually sipping a sidecar, flustered and at a loss of words. She did _not_ just intervene with his revenge.

"All right, who's this guy you're looking for?" she began, ignoring his look of outrage.

Gokudera was about to retort a nasty reply when he noted the inquiry. It was now or never. His retribution would have to wait, he reluctantly ordered himself. "What's the trade for the information?" he demanded suspiciously.

For a moment, a fleeting glimpse of discreet delight flashed in her violet eyes, but it quickly clenched when she leaned in, chin propped on her palm. "Oh, nothing too bad. I'll have you dance a little."

He made an unimpressed snort. Like hell he'd believe that. But, for now, he would handle this girl for the information he needed. He wanted to know who the guy was who had saved him in the alley, and he had a notion that this girl would know. It was nothing more than a hunch that he was relying on. But, then again, he had always relied on instinct. Gokudera decided to test this confident red light district dealer. "Blond, blue eyes, has slicked back hair," he started, naming things off the top of his head. It was strange how he was able to list the man's qualities so quickly without much thought put into it. "Tall, lives by himself, and..." he hesitated. Was it all right to mention that the other could fight well? It probably wouldn't surprise the people in this neighborhood anyhow, he concluded – gang fights were common, after all. "And he has a high fighting capability."

The redhead eyed him. After a few minutes of deliberation in which Gokudera tried to ignore the ninety percent grinding taking place on the dance floor, she finally broke out into a triumphant smirk. "One of the most popular hosts in the famous red light district _Volare_ host club. He goes by the name of Gamma," she declared, grinning playfully.

"Gamma...?" murmured Gokudera. He must be pretty well-known around here. A host from this area? How surprising, he thought. He was thinking of more to ask of the girl across from him when suddenly he felt a cold hand sliding up his throat from behind. Before he could think to react, a powdered cloth had gagged him into unconsciousness, dousing his body with sleep, and he was inevitably knocked out cold.

M.M, the informer, stood from her seat, eyes blinking innocently before a dark smile overcame her. "I think I've made a good catch this time, wouldn't you agree, Mister Mukuro?"

"Kufufu, I concur," the liquid smooth voice concluded.

The silver elevator door slid open, admitting the three arrivals, and then propelled to a close. None of the fellow club attendees had noticed the disappearance of the trio, for the elevator was located in the far back of the vicinity, a sure spot to have neglected upon casual inspection.

* * *

It was unbearably dark, but it was not silent. He could hear rustles of movement around him, voices murmuring to each other, and cautious touches on his arms and legs. Gokudera stirred, eyes opening wide in alarm when the dawning realization of bonds restricting his limbs and a blindfold reducing his sight hit him. He instantly struggled without thinking over his plans to escape, fingers clenching, wrists tugging against the rope, teeth gritting, head shaking in vain to slacken the blindfold, and feet digging into the floor. Where was he?

"Shit, where is this?" he hissed, his joints straining and his hands stilling in a tired numbness, and he leaned back against the wall, ears keen on any motions outside of his range. His legs were unbound, thankfully, but it made him question the person's or persons' who abducted him motive and confidence. Gokudera cursed himself yet again for getting into this situation, and for his mind to black out on the incident when he was knocked into unconsciousness. His memory was hazy and disoriented, but he recalled the redhead who was feeding him information.

She was definitely involved, he decided.

But he should've known that the downside of the bargain was imminent danger. In the red light district, there is no such term as "free." Gokudera mentally kicked himself. On the plus side, he finally knew the man's name. Gamma, was it now...?

Gokudera jumped, senses ringing in pressed alarm when he felt a presence lingering before him. He instinctively bared his teeth, hands once again struggling against the bonds tightly roped around him. This was humiliating – was he really this pathetic to have encountered these street ruffians without basic defense up his sleeves? Or perhaps he was unlucky in general. He was leaning more towards the latter, but it was no time to be depreciating his life. He needed a way out of this unfortunate circumstance, and brooding about it wouldn't help matters.

"Hey, hey, hold still, will you?" a whiny, teenage voice demanded in a strained tone when Gokudera kicked him in the knee with his free leg. The boy muttered curses and insults as he rubbed his injured spot.

The silver-haired teen smirked in distaste. There was no way he was going down without a fight. That was, if he was going down at all. It seemed like the guy in front of him was only a wimp, lucky for him. It didn't make sense as to what the idiot was doing, tying him up like this. Were downtown kids really this well out of perpetual Italian education and self-restraint? Gokudera scoffed, lips snarling in abhorrence, and he was ready to shove another leg into the wimp when a new and unfamiliar voice interrupted him.

"Remember your job, Paolo." This guy sounded more serious, and Gokudera perked up in dreading curiosity when he heard footsteps approaching him.

"Are we using _'that_?'" questioned the latter, Paolo. He sounded like he was containing excitement, but at the same time an awe of horror was also traceable in his hoarse voice.

Gokudera tensed at the non-secretive mention of a certain 'that.' What were they going to do?

"Of course we are. We agreed with the dealer, remember?"

As the conversation continued, Gokudera had never felt as restless as he had now, anxiety creeping up his spine and ending up in the shallow pit of his pacing heart. He was endlessly struggling against fear and the thoughts that plagued his troubled mind. By 'dealer,' he was certain that they meant the illegal drug trade in the black market. There was nothing in this district that could be viewed as pleasant or natural. Everything was obscured by negativity and the raw desires of incompetent humans who were prone to their selfish wants and demands.

And so it made sense, Gokudera concluded with narrowed eyes behind the troublesome blindfolds. He needed some way to escape, and he was lucky this time around, because now he was facing kids who would be around his own age. This meant that he had at least an equal standing with them in terms of strength – if only the stupid restraints would come off.

Shit. Again. Gokudera snarled when a hand out of nowhere grasped his shirt, fighting the offending person off with his raised leg. He heard an open curse word as the boy withdrew, hissing in pain. "Don't fuck around with me, bastards," the sixteen year-old rebel growled threateningly.

"Cristiano, I told you the guy's psycho," Paolo whispered.

That was almost amusing to Gokudera, but at the name "Cristiano," he was filled with disgust. The meaning behind the Italian name was "a follower of Christ," but it strictly conflicted with the male's current profession in handling drugs. He tensed up when silence proceeded; a stark contrast to the hustle of movements before, and then he knew he should've expected something to happen when a mass of body weight clamped down on his legs. Struggling and refuting, Gokudera tried to kick the person away, but at the same time, a hand from somewhere was forcing his sleeve up.

"Get away, fuckers," he snarled, an uncharacteristic fear lacing his gilded bravado. He couldn't move, couldn't see, and couldn't repel. He was at his wit's end, if there were one to begin with. An intuition of his grasped the idea that one of the two guys was going to apply a dosage of whatever drug into him.

He was so not letting this happen.

But he couldn't move, either.

Shit.

"All right, hold him steady, Paolo. We're using this guy as - " Cristiano never got to finish his sentence, because a _bang!_ had interfered, the loud noise vibrating the air particles in the still room. Gokudera perked up, hoping against hope that he was going to be saved from this mess.

Footsteps, hushed voices, gasps, and then a bold, calm, and familiar voice that brought overwhelming relief along with surprise to the latter. Gokudera twitched, and then became motionless when the boy was hauled off of his legs, rickety cries for help uttering dryly as he went.

"We are from the Federal Bureau of Narcotics and Drugs. You are arrested for the attempted use of a drug, tested blue for Methamphetamine, and the abduction of an individual into the basement of the club _I Biscioni_."

"I'm not involved, I swear!"

"Paolo, shut up," Cristiano whispered, voice aghast.

With his heart pounding painfully in his chest, Gokudera took in the fact that the hand on his sleeve had withdrawn, and also the absolute and unexpected arrival of his savior for the second time, Gamma. He didn't resist when someone, a girl, he thought, by the feel of her hands, undid the bonds restricting him and parted the blindfold placed over his eyes. White light endeared his blurry vision and black spots danced, but when he blinked a couple times for insurance, they ebbed away and left him with perfectly clear sighting.

The two boys, both dirtied and dark-haired wearing worn down clothes, were being chained by serious in appearance officers of the health department. _Serves the assholes right_, Gokudera thought savagely. He tried to stand up, but found the action racking to his unaccustomed limbs. Leaning on the wall, he saw the forensics busily scattering around the basement looking for other evidences as the narcs took to examining the nearly administered needle. Gokudera glanced at it and felt his stomach clenching in anxiety. He felt like throwing up.

It was a close call to having unwanted substances floating in his bloodstream. The thought made him detest this situation even more. Three of the investigation department sauntered over to him, each looking incredibly more solemn than the next. Gokudera didn't feel like talking to them, and so he averted his eyes, scowling.

"Who's the victim this time?" the deep, familiar voice sounded from across the room.

He felt all colors drain from his already pale face. He definitely did not want to appear _weak_ in front of that man. _Oh shit, don't come over. Don't you dare _-

"Oi, oi, oi, kid, you're a professional at attracting trouble."

_What did he say?!_

"Gamma, you know this boy?" one of the narcs asked, pen tapping his clipboard.

Gokudera tensed as the tall blond stepped into the ring of drug investigators, cobalt eyes never failing to suppress surprise. He was wearing a black suit, varying from the casual clothes Gokudera had seen him in the day before, and his intimidating stature was as steeled as ever.

"The victim this time around is the first to ever survive this case against the _Impero_," a calculative voice informed from the back. A wavy redhead with square glasses perched on his nose was inspecting the needle and its liquid drug, white lab coat dragging over the floor.

Would they stop referring to him as "the victim?" This was seriously getting to his nerves. With a scowl, Gokudera pushed through the indignant narcs, disregarding that they had saved him, and tried to head out the door with its picked lock when Gamma stopped him – indirectly.

"I know, Shoichi. And so this means that the brat will be in constant danger before the head decides to hunt him down and then kill him."

Gokudera turned slowly in shock, emerald eyes meeting calm oceanic ones. They flickered with something akin to vague concern, but the faint emotion was replaced by a sheen of professional astuteness when he strode across the floor, seemingly as undaunted as the day he and the teen had first met. Gamma stared down at the latter, steel-blue irises displaying something bordering disapproval. "You are the witness to the near drug usage of the two males. We will need you to affirm the regarded details up to date just before you were forced unconscious."

"The hell? What if I don't want to?" Gokudera snapped, fully registering the boundless eyes focused on him. He didn't even appear embarrassed by the unwanted attention, as the frustration and aggravation of this whole scenario had hit him.

Gamma slowly smirked, as if already expecting this reaction out of the stubborn silver-haired teen.

"Then, you'll just have to deal with me in the apartment, alone, until you finally let loose the details regarding this bust."

Oh. Flying. Shit. No.

* * *

**Rori's Note: **I'd originally intended TMF (_Taint Me a Fusion_) to be an estimated 14-17 chapters, but with the path I'm taking, it has now prolonged to 20+ chappies.

Oh yay.

With more enthusiasm this time, please.

OH YESH!

All right. Now, Seme and I are deciding for a couple date for NightSmex mm~ Like how 6927 has its own on August something. You guys choose a month or date!

Double updates for NightSmex today~ Check out _Trust Me, I Lie_ (TML) by **Self-Proclaimed Seme**!~


	4. Paint the Picture

**Rori's Corner: **I support the year 1800, oho~

Heh. Long time no see, everyone :3 It's time to set the plot in motion~

Yah, I prolly lost all of my readers. But 's okay. I'll win you guys back ~ I'm a confident prince, I know. Time for your...monthly feed of _NightSmex_ addiction bby~

* * *

Taint Me a Fusion

**Chapter 4:** Paint the Picture

"_All the right moves in all the right faces, _

_So yeah, we're going down_

_They'll be the King of Hearts,_

_And you're the Queen of Spades_

_Then we'll fight for you like we were your soldiers"_

* * *

"You verify that the drug abusers did not administer any negative substances into your bloodstream?"

"...How many times do I have to tell you that I'm. Perfectly. Fine?" Gokudera snapped one third of the investigation in. The detective with the black-rimmed spectacles gathered up his evidence again, scrolling down the words casually as if used to such attitude from all his other witnesses. The irritated teen and the man were in a cellar-like vicinity, barricaded in by stone bricks on three sides with a barred exit in the front. A flimsy sheen of light filtered in the equally barred window, sheltering some decencies of comfort into the impatient witness. The detective tapped his ball-point pen on the wooden table, an act of evaluation taking over his calm mind. A steady moment later, his intelligent blue eyes roved up the papers to meet curiously agitated emerald.

"Are you inevitably sure - "

"Gamma!" snarled Gokudera, stomping a foot on the stone floor as he glared witheringly at the nonchalant man leaning on the exit door. "How the hell did this guy get his job?"

The steel-eyed man clicked his tongue, arms crossed and body leaning against the barred frame with his lips curled in amusement. He glanced at the annoyed inquirer before turning on the steadfast detective, leather boots click-clacking on the stone floor. Patting a hand on the shoulder of the latter, Gamma said easily, "Allow me to handle this..." He looked over to chance the curious eyebrow of the silver-haired teen and resumed his attention on the man seated, smirking slightly. "I'll manage this rascal of a witness. Consider yourself dismissed, Detective Sergio."

Uneasily, the man stirred, standing up and keeping a wary eye on the witness across from him, who looked like he had something to say about being named a rascal. "If you say so, Gamma. I shall reserve the information, if you don't mind," he spoke, gesturing at the papers.

"It'll be fine," replied the taller male. Leaning down to whisper into the detective's ears despite Gokudera's obvious intentions to eavesdrop, he told the attentive man, "Keep them, because I have my own ways to deal with this kid."

Detective Sergio raised both eyebrows, whispering back in a curious voice, "I'll trust you on this, I suppose. The Narcotics department's head seems intent on this case, so I reckon you'd not be wanting to make any mistakes."

"Naturally," Gamma concurred in a louder voice, straightening his posture just as the detective stood to his full height. The former went over to unlock the cell's door, guiding the intelligence agent out while saying, "You have that ongoing case with the homicidal incident, correct?"

"Yes," the grave voice of Detective Sergio answered. "Rather unfortunate for me to have landed on this crime. The syndicates were quick on the escape, though I doubt they were involved with the murder itself." There was a pause, and footsteps resounded around the corner; then, the man's voice faded.

Gokudera scowled bitterly by himself, wondering if he'd have enough time to bolt out the cell and escape. However, not an unjust second later, his self-proclaimed nemesis returned from his prior act of courtesy, cobalt-blue concealing any emotion, though something flickered when he clashed eyes with him. The jade irises of the teen narrowed in suspicion, and he stood up from his seat. Wasting no time in a venomous staring contest, Gokudera started, "If you think you're going to - "

"Brat, I've enough of your foolishness," Gamma interrupted, this time with his tone seeping firm hostility. Adjusting his tie, he motioned with his other hand at the door, making a mocking sweep of his arm and a bow, imitating a butler. "Now, shall we head back for a private interrogation?"

"Are you – " beeping – "serious? I'm not going to tell you anything!"

Gamma looked down at the furious boy, sympathy nonexistent in his mature, cold eyes. "I can care less."

Gokudera gaped, staring at the back of the man as he left him in the cell.

**//Night.//Smex.//**

The black-tinted BMV slid into the parking lane, wheels rolling steadily to a halt before the engine stopped running. The driver seat's door unlocked and swung open, introducing the freshly clipped agent of the Narcotics department, blond hair slicked back like usual. He stepped out, shutting the door gently, and then headed to the backseat. As if in hesitation, he stood still for a few seconds, deliberating in his mind as he peered into the dark window. Seeing the obvious struggling teen who was intentionally vibrating the vehicle with his resistance, the blond sighed, brows knitting and hand running through his gelled hair in aggravation. One short interval later, a certain silver-haired lad protruded from the backseat, lips snarled and eyes ablaze with retribution.

"Yo," Gamma greeted casually, looking down at him.

Gokudera glared up, palms clenching into fists. "You bastard, strapping me with seat-belts."

Waving a nonchalant hand as if to dismiss such unlikely claims, the elder male headed for the apartment with a hand in his pants pocket, strides easily carrying him to the sliding doors. When he heard no footfalls following from behind, he turned around, an eyebrow raised in question. Gokudera had a pointed expression, eyes boldly leering at him and chin tilted up in prominence. Thinking that the boy had some sort of integrity left, Gamma said bluntly, "If you have something to say, enlighten me."

The lad straightened up, still keeping the ongoing eye contact. Gokudera hissed, "I'm only going to give you the basic info."

Gamma gazed at him with interest, surprised that the teen was willing to comply, albeit the limitations (as those could be arranged to meet with the preferences of a formal interrogation), so soon without external force to persuade him in the matter. Perhaps this was a ruse performed by the rebel, but he was already hooked to what the lad could possibly offer on the whereabouts of the Impero, the single cruelest gang dealing in drugs of the current black market. "Oh?" he prompted, eying the latter for any misgivings.

Gritting his teeth, Gokudera crossed his arms and stared intently at the man across from him, mind doing rapid calculations and premonitions. He wasn't lying when he offered to provide information on the earlier incident, but he also wasn't dense to give it away for free. It seemed like the Narcs agent was expecting something from him as well, by the way those cool, evaluating eyes were positioned on his face. Concealing all suspicious emotions, he tried a serious, austere tone when he spoke, "I met this girl in downtown – "

"Downtown?" Gamma interrupted, scoffing.

Immediately Gokudera lost his calm, teeth baring in an irritated notion as he snapped, "Well, it's not like I know _anywhere else_, bastard."

"You know what you were getting yourself into. Kids like you shouldn't wander around that area freely," reprimanded the older male, providing his statement support with his prominent voice. Already anticipating what reaction the all bark and bite teen would give, he shook his head and said dismissively, "Well, carry on."

"You're freakin' delirious if you think I'm letting this one go."

"I'm perfectly sane, for your information," replied Gamma.

A gritting of teeth. "So, I met this girl, and she said she was going to fill me in on...what downtown is like," Gokudera lied, eyes betraying nothing. He didn't want the narcotics agent to know that he had prompted the girl into feeding him info about _him_. That would be humiliating to admit and most likely amusing to the man.

Gamma tapped his foot, reining in excitement as he glanced around to reassure that no ears besides his were listening to this. When he found it satisfactory, he refocused his attention on the still clearly ticked off teen. He gave an easy smirk, but his frown conflicted with the comforting tactic. "What was that girl like?" he asked. A beat of silence answered him; then, the boy forced himself to reply.

"A redhead."

"That can't be the only area you've noticed about her."

Gokudera flared up, "Well, _sir_, I can't remember anything else."

Letting out a quiet snort in disbelief, Gamma prompted again, "So? What did she say?" However, he didn't hear a reply. As soon as the words left his mouth, his sleek mobile started ringing a familiar tune. Averting the latter's eyes while noticing the relief in his posture, Gamma unlocked his cellphone and answered the call.

"Hey, vice chief from division one of the narcotics department here. Is this agent Gamma?" It was a cheery and lax voice; nevertheless, a certain firmness was found in the caller's tone.

"Who's that - "

"Gamma reporting. Is something the matter, vice chief?" he replied, ignoring the curiosity of the younger male.

"Don't ignore me, oi!"

A chuckle came through the intercom. "Yeah, the agents on standby from division two have informed us of another Impero encounter." The voice hardened at the mention of the malicious organization. "It seems you are the person from division one closest to the site, so we want you to investigate this in further detail."

"Where is this place, exactly?" Gamma inquired, throat constricting and mind wheeling.

"Uptown, Bigerio's supermarket. Seems like the syndicates are plotting something again."

Frowning, Gamma said tersely, "Is the police going to be involved?"

A pause. "I would like to say fifty-fifty, but I doubt it. They're going to be involved, I'm sure."

The undercover agent chuckled. "We'll beat the chase, don't worry. I'll contact you later, vice chief." Just when he was about to terminate the connection, the same voice called out in a hasty tone.

"Wait, Gamma. Chief says he wants you to use our one-time informer on this case."

"Our one-time informer...?" he questioned, frowning. Which informer was the vice chief referring? The only informer he knew of was the very irritable, foul-tempered teen who was rather unwillingly aiding the narcs department. The man couldn't be serious about using _him_, could he? Apparently he was, Gamma was unfortunate to note.

"The victim of the recent crime scene."

"...Got it." He pressed the disconnection and stowed the mobile into his pocket, all the while ignoring the irritably curious gaze following his every move. Brushing a hand through his blonde hair, Gamma finally turned on the lad, looking down at him from his height. Gokudera crossed his arms in anticipation. "Let's go," the older male ordered abruptly, striding away from the condo and towards the awaiting vehicle, swiftly brushing past the silver-haired latter.

Gokudera scowled, displeased. "The hell are you going?"

"We," the man corrected from the driver's seat, the black-tinted window rolling down to reveal the side view of his face. He glanced at the unmoving teen, already feeling patience dissipating. "Get in. We have a mission to bust."

The minor stood in front of the backseat door, though he remained still, hesitant. There was an edge to his voice, "What did the guy say?"

"Brat," Gamma sighed impatiently. "We're dealing with the _Impero_, a wild group of nutcase drug dealers. Don't you have revenge to take?"

That hit the mark. Gokudera slammed the door open, jumping into the backseat with a jingle of noises. "Why didn't you say so earlier?" he accused, glaring.

Gamma swerved the car around a bend, teeth gritted in anticipation and concentration. He decided not to answer.

**//Page.//Break.//**

Bigerio's supermarket was flowing with mothers and their children, a few teenagers, and some other customers. Rows of vegetables, fruits, an assortment of noodles and pasta, and various foods lined the store, and employers in uniform shirts walked around. A silver-haired teen with his hair tied back in a low ponytail stood in a lax posture in front of a magazine holder. He was frowning, finger thumbing through a book, letting out a disgruntled noise whenever he spotted an uprising rock star by the name of "_Belphegor_" appearing on a page. "Che, the hell's this crap," the lad muttered, stowing it back into the stand and reaching for another. Just when he was about to take a magazine, he froze, emerald irises widening slightly.

A gun was jabbing into his back.

"Hey, don't move. We've got a word with you from boss," a scratchy, youthful voice told him. Someone else was beside him, a calm presence.

The calculative voice murmured so that only the victim could hear, "It's best not to resist. As you can see, we can open fire at any second."

"Chikusa," the former voice spoke up, a grin traceable in his tone, "let's hurry up. We can't let the camera catch us." He prodded the machine, noting with satisfaction that the silver-haired teen was shivering slightly. "We won't harm you as long as - "

"Move, Ken!" Chikusa shouted in warning, but it was too late; Gokudera had dropped down on one knee and lashed out with his leg, perfectly catching the spiky blond by surprise and forcing him to lose balance. Ken fell with a thump, head connecting solidly with a grocery row and consequently making canned fish clatter onto the floor. By now, people were aware of the sudden noise, each curiously looking around for the commotion. Wasting no time, Gokudera immediately grabbed glasses-boy by his arm just as he was reaching for his weapon. Chikusa struggled, grunting in protest.

A crowd was gathering, and the two clerks along with the employers hurried over to try to stop the intrusion. However, a tall blond stepped into the ring, bearing a badge for all to see with his impressive stature, and with one look at the emblem, the supermarket personnel backed away, glancing at each other nervously. Gamma gently brushed a grandmother aside as he strode over, parting the audience. "Federal Bureau of Narcotics and Drugs present, all onlookers please move elsewhere," he declared. With hush whispers, the women and children took a step back, but curious customers remained at a good distance, peering over others' shoulders.

Dreading the appearance of a narcs agent, Chikusa stopped resisting and attempted to run, pulling his white beanie lower over his head, but he wasn't a few steps away when he saw two figures arrive from the backdoor of the supermarket. Ken, who was rubbing his head and trying to get his bearings back, slowly stood up from the aisle of seasoned food. The glasses-wearing male glanced at him in the corner of his eyes, saw that the reckless blond was all right, and took a cautious step back himself, feeling the approaching danger tingling his spine.

A tall, dark-haired man wearing a black work suit strode across the tiled floor to reach the commotion, steely cobalt eyes narrowed and perceptive with his thin lips omitting any emotion. He had prominent, oriental features, both intimidating and attractive, and his posture was straight like a ruler. Alongside him was a shorter male, a redhead with unique, vermillion irises. He was a few steps behind the taller lad. He was not as blank and expressionless as the other, but still vaguely indifferent. They were approaching Chikusa, and the latter hastily turned around for another exit route.

He found none: the silver-haired teen was leaning against an aisle, jade eyes glistening with venom, and beside him was the tall blond, whose lips were curled in a pleased smirk.

Chikusa cursed.

"Got nowhere to go, huh," Gokudera sneered, crossing his arms. He was still not satisfied by the little revenge he'd attained from the prior threat performed by the two rascals. He wanted to punch the scarred blond into a bloody pulp and beat the glasses-guy into unconsciousness, but it didn't seem like Gamma would let him. The silver-haired teen scowled. Since when did he care about what other people think? If he wanted to, he _would_ get into a fight. Who gives a damn about some guy's opinion?

But wait, Gamma wasn't just "some guy." He was actually useful in saving his ass not once, but twice. Keeping this thought in mind, Gokudera willed himself a little integrity for the man.

Seeing what the target was about to do, Gamma took a threatening step, saying in a careful voice, "If I were you, I wouldn't do that."

Chikusa let himself a small smile, hands deep in his pants pockets, feeling for the yo-yos he knew he would find. He would be better dead than brought alive, interrogated by these puppet narcotic specialists, and then brutally killed by the Impero later. The Impero...he shivered slightly at the mention of that name. He retrieved the spiked children's toy, feeling the transparent string with the tip of his finger, not saying a word. The two figures were a few feet behind him now, and he could feel the curious glare of the teenager and the tense one from the elder male. He would make this quick.

"What is that guy doing?" one of the clerks shouted, shouldering his way through the audience that had gathered once more. Ken was groaning in pain, ambling closer to his partner in crime, not noticing the mere distance between him and the petite redhead.

"Chikusa, run," grunted the blond. His friend ignored him, concentrating on his mockingly innocent toys. Ken tried to say something, but suddenly tendrils of smoke drifted from Chikusa's figure. A smog began to enfold the supermarket, and then shrill cries and screams erupted as the customers made for a run to escape. "Chikusa, you - " the blond stopped, coughing, and tried to cover his mouth from the smoke. He winced, grabbing his partner by the arm and dragging him toward the backdoor. But the guy wouldn't budge. Straining his eyes, he saw metal rings winding their way around Chikusa's body, leaving only his head and feet visible. Ken tugged at the steel, shaking his head left and right viciously.

"Oi, stay back, Hayato."

"I'm not just going to stay here and watch!"

"At least cover your mouth, idiot. Don't inhale the smoke."

"I _know_ that."

Ken struggled against the smog, refusing to open up his lungs, and only years of training saved his breath. He was pulling the rigid, metal-encased Chikusa by the chains, but he didn't go far, because right at that moment the smoke dispersed, leaving him and his imprisoned friend in the clear. Like a deer caught in headlights, he stared with wide eyes in bewilderment. Then, slowly, a strained grin enveloped him. "H-heh, catch me if you can, turds!" he snickered, feigning bravado as he tried to run with his friend an extra weight holding him down. He could see the two unfamiliar figures before him, but he only noticed them when a foot stuck out and he tripped forward, landing flat on the floor with his face pressed against the tiles.

His nose would have a hard time recovering.

"Division two of the narcotics department reporting to duty," an audible voice murmured. The redhead was looming over Ken, vermillion eyes betraying nothing. He toed the boy on the floor with a sneaker, ignoring the indignant grunt of the latter. From beside the redhead appeared a chilly presence, a tall dark-haired man. A cold smile traced his lips.

"Hibari Kyoya and Kozato Enma," Gamma pronounced slowly, an eyebrow raised.

Gokudera eyed the two arrivals curiously. "Who are they?" he asked.

Hibari glanced at him boredly, then looked down at the victim trapped in his ring of chains. He smirked in satisfaction, saying almost conversationally, "This is my forty-fourth score, Kozato. You are rather idle these past weeks."

The redhead crouched down, observing the two faces of the Impero agents. "I never said I was entering this competition." There was a barely noticeable frown on his lips.

"Hey," Gokudera muttered, nudging Gamma with his elbow, "who are those two?"

The blond replied without returning the look, "The second division of the narcotics department, agents Hibari and Enma."

* * *

**Rori's Corner:** Uhm, longarse gap in between updates. But it's all gud. Yes, fast moving plot. And yeahhh, HAPPY BELATED B-DAY Hibari~ Buon Compleanno! I had you all action-nized for this...belated present. If you can call it one.

Anywaii, enjoyed? No? Yes? Prolly no, but don't say that~ feed my ego.


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